


You got that medicine I need (seven times Misty healed Lana)

by Vracs



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Crossover, Drabbles, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Soft Girlfriends, seven times Lana healed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 09:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17383979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vracs/pseuds/Vracs
Summary: Cross-over oneshot : Misty helps Lana through her trauma in seven short stories





	You got that medicine I need (seven times Misty healed Lana)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFandomLesbian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFandomLesbian/gifts).



> Lyrics taken from 'Gods & Monsters' by Lana Del Rey

_1._  
Misty watches Lana carefully, counting the syncopated clicks of her fingers as they jab at her typewriter. The curl of cigarette smoke leaves her mouth and kisses the thick ropes of steam as they rise from her coffee cup. Her ash tray is full. The sun hasn't risen yet.

Lana's eyes are dark and wild, and there are deep worry lines between her brows, lib blossoming in scarlet reds between her teeth. Her neck glistens with sweat. Her hands tremble.

She's been up since dawn and Misty had watched her rise from bed, tense and pacing as she hurried into her bathrobe and raced downstairs to put memories to paper. There was nothing Misty could do - a passenger to Lana's continuing ascent from hell, to her nightmares, her frayed nerves. The bags under her eyes had only continued to deepen and hard as they tried, Misty's fingertips could only soothe but never heal.

Misty pads barefoot to the kitchen, greeted by a brief, tired smile, and she touches a careful hand to Lana's tense shoulder, feeling it yield slightly under her fingers before she gets to work on eggs and grits. She starts to hum some Stevie absentmindedly; doesn't notice the quieting of the typewriter nor the comforting sound Lana makes as she takes a sip of her coffee.

She finally places a plate in front of her and sits to keep her company. Lana strokes her wrist briefly, in gratitude, stabbing at her eggs. Her stomach growls. The first taste has her eyes fluttering shut and Misty almost beams at her, heart swelling at the blissful look on Lana's face. It happens so rarely nowadays.

She watches Lana eat before she makes a start on her own food - watches the way her jaw works, the sinewy muscles at her throat as they tense with each swallow, the pink that kisses Lana's cheeks to life as she finishes her meal. Lana shuts her eyes and slumps in her chair, taking a drag from her cigarette before leaning across the table to place a gentle kiss to Misty's palm, her life-line. _God, she loves her._

"Thank you."

Misty catches Lana's fingers in her own, lingering, just for a moment. "You're welcome, darlin'."

 _2._  
Lana slams the front door and almost collides with Misty in her attempt to barricade herself from the world outside. Fat tears glisten down the side of her trembling mouth. There are snowflakes caught in her eyelashes, dark wet stains on her woollen coat, and Misty moves to hold her, shivering when Lana pushes her nose into the warm crook of her neck. Her entire body vibrates.

"What happened?" More importantly, she wants to ask, _how the hell had you managed to drive yourself back?_

She barely hears Lana's gravelly voice as it cracks, muffled by her skin, explaining to her that she'd been at the grocery store, hoped to pin down Misty's favorite tea and something for their dinner, a surprise, and then the neon lights had flickered, glinting off her metal trolley menacingly until the store had been filled with complete darkness and her legs had given way under her, a sudden crash of pain through her chest the last thing she remembered before her tunnel vision turned to black. 

She'd been found by the store clerk once the power was back, given a hot drink and a seat until her breathing had synchronised and she felt well enough to make it to the car. 

Misty would berate her - _you could've crashed, you could've died, what the hell would I do then?_ \- but Lana is so small in her arms and she looks so sad and frozen, all Misty can do is kiss her chapped mouth and warm her cheeks with the palms of her hands. 

"Come see," she whispers, stripping Lana of her coat and arranging her on the sofa, her sobs waning as Misty wraps her in a blanket and grabs a towel to dry off her hair. She takes Lana's shoes off reverently and then her wet stockings, warming her feet in her hands and rubbing feeling back into them. With a flick of her wrist, the fireplace lights and Lana hums into her. She pushes sleepy kisses into the angle of Misty's jaw, telling her that somehow, with Misty, she almost feels safe.

 _3._  
Christmas Eve comes quickly. They share spiked hot chocolates as they curl into bed and into each other, with thick socks and blankets on blankets. Misty never had a proper Christmas and Lana had vowed to make this one special for her. They'd picked a tree together, made a little lighter by Misty's magic. They'd decorated and cooked, sharing hot wine and sneaking candy into each other's mouths. Misty had danced Lana across the living room, to the special spot by the doorway, kissing her longingly when Lana realised that mistletoe had been placed there just for her. 

Lana lets Misty kiss her to sleep and she passes out so quickly, draped across Misty's chest, that Misty has to use her eyes to flick the bedroom lights off. 

Then sudden heavy hands crawl on her from the darkness. They shove her into the bed, anchoring her wrists painfully, and she feels a body - not Misty's - on top of her, heavy and vile, the sour stench of sweat upturning her stomach until she's heaving and gasping and crying as she wretches. There's stubble, scraping against her cheek, a wet, angry mouth there, she tries to turn her head against it, to squeeze her eyes shut, but the glint bites through her, reflecting off horn rimmed glasses, off the metal edge of a knife, she can feel the blade at her neck, pushing, pushing, sharp, deliberate and she screams but it's muted and she's screaming still, her body is straining, he's gritting out her name, _Lana, Lana, Lana_ -

Her arm flies out and butts Misty under her chin. 

"Lana, wake up, Lana, _Lana_ ," Misty chants to her, stroking the side of her neck and the sweaty, matted hair away from her forehead. "You're in bed, you're dreamin' sugar, you're safe," she continues to shush, hugging Lana to her until her shaking settles and she's left crying. And then quietly, _I love you, I love you, I love you. ___

____

Lana sputters and pulls Misty clumsily on top of her, her body light and soft where moments ago there were heavy, jagged edges, reminding her that this is real, and her dream was not. She guides Misty's concerned face to her neck, whispering, _'kiss me there, please'_ and Misty obliges, breathing magic just beneath her collar bones, kissing her over and over until Lana's eyes are dry and red. Lana tells her that she's too frightened to fall asleep, and she keeps to her word. 

Misty sings her songs her grandaddy taught her and tells her stories of the Coven as they wait for sun-up. Misty hopes they take a nap after they've opened their presents.

 _4._  
The first signs of spring come in the form of blossoming daffodils by their bedroom window. Misty picks them just for Lana, leaving vases on the TV and the night stand and beside the bathroom mirror and by the fridge. She collects dozens of them, to remind Lana that brighter days are coming, and that Misty loves her even if Lana sometimes doesn't love herself.

Lana works long hours to finish the final chapter of her book. Often, she doesn't emerge from her study for half-days at a time, and the only signs of life permeating from the room are the harsh clacks of the typewriter and the swish of paper as it piles up.

The daffodils age with every chapter that Lana writes, and Misty worries for her, wondering if she will ever heal. She spends her days tidying and singing to the quiet melodies of the radio, loitering by Lana's door just in case she's needed. 

Lana doesn't neglect her completely, not as much as she neglects her flowers. She still wakes Misty with a tender kiss; brings her cups of tea in bed and looks at her longingly when Misty strips to take a bath. In bed, Lana will touch her, but flinch away in return. 

The final night, she doesn't come to bed at all. She writes until the birds sing, collapsing in a tired heap on her desk once the final page is tossed. Misty carries her half-drunk to their bedroom and throws the last of the drying daffodils away.

She scowers the phone directory while Lana sleeps, writing down numbers of therapists and counsellors and support groups. She'd hoped her magic would save Lana but it seems to have been a hindrence more than a help. 

In the late afternoon, when Lana has re-emerged, showered and human, she finds Misty knee-deep in soil, watches her hands work as they plant seeds and make them blossom in mere moments. She takes the vase that she'd been hiding behind her back, and rests it by Misty's feet. There are two golden daffodils, glowing in the April sun.

Misty looks up with disbelieving eyes.

"I took care of them. They were in my study."

Misty's vision blurs and she wipes her dirty hands on her skirt, leaning to kiss Lana's crimson mouth, mumbling fervent words of gratitude against her lips.

 _5._  
Misty shows her the swamp in the high heat of the Louisiana sun, one morning in July. She'd planned to take Lana there sooner but the frost had melted late and then there was the springtime and Misty wanted Lana to feel safe in her own home first before they could explore beyond it. 

Her shack is a little worse for wear, smattered with places where the aching wood has caved in on itself from winter's cruel hands, hiding cracks where there were none before. But it remains sturdy and safe, and Misty delights in the way Lana stares at it with childlike curiosity. 

Misty shows her the water and the canopy of trees, the birds gossiping there, and Lana's laugh is so resonant and true, Misty almost falls in love all over again. She watches Lana's peaceful face, the way her summer dress clings to her, brushing the tops of her legs in the breeze. 

"I need to write about this. It's so calm here." Lana's eyes are big and bright to match her smile, and she follows Misty's footsteps down another path to a clearing, where the water turns translucent and blue with the sky above it.

"C'mere," Misty runs to the edge and pulls her dress off, toeing her boots and scooping her wild, tangled hair into a messy bun before wading into the lagoon with only a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Lana's safe. She splashes the water around her and laughs at Lana's incredulous face, "No 'gators here, promise!"

She doesn't leave much room for negotiation and Lana reluctantly undresses, keeping her brassiere and bottoms on as she enters the water, shivering, frowning downwards to make sure she can see her toes at all times. There are no fish there, only smooth pebbles and moss. She's too busy checking for living things, she doesn't notice Misty gliding towards her until she's being pulled in completely, sputtering and blinking furiously as Misty smooths wet strands from her face and kisses her there.

Their bodies glide together. Misty kisses Lana's sweaty neck, her shoulder, her temples and ears. She counts the bronze freckles on the bridge of Lana's nose - there are fourteen, so far - and inhales the thick scent of flowers and earth around them.

"Are y'alright?"

Lana smiles. "You know - for the first time? I think I might be," she admits, looping her arms around Misty's neck as she keeps them afloat.

 _6._  
It's Misty's birthday. She wakes twice in the night. The first time, to the feel of Lana moving beside her, whimpering to herself as her eyelids flicker. Misty watches her for a minute, counts her rapid panting breaths before smoothing a hand through her hair to soothe her. Lana calms quickly, curling in on herself under Misty's chin.

The second time, to the sound of Fleetwood Mac and clinking plates as Lana navigates her way around Misty's tiny stove, frying bacon and swaying to the music. 

Misty doesn't make her presence known, propping her head up on her hand to revel in Lana for a little while. When she gets caught, Misty smiles, sitting up on her knees to give Lana a morning kiss.

"Hey sunshine."

She gets a playful poke and a plate piled high with bacon, pancakes and maple syrup. Her eyes go wide.

"For me?"

"Mhmm." Lana kisses her gently again. She's already had a bite and her lips taste sticky and sweet and a little bit salty from the heat of the morning sun. When they break, Lana sighs in content and pushes an A4-sized parcel into Misty's lap. "You didn't think I'd forget, did you?"

Misty smiles sheepishly, "What's all this?" 

She sets her plate on the bed and carefully unwraps her gift, handling it with great care. Besides some old Stevie Nicks records from Zoe and a new plant pot from Queenie and Madison, Misty can't recall ever receiving a birthday present. She looks down at the rows of text. She reads the first line, _'I look up to the canopy. I can feel your hand in my own.'_

Her heart clenches in her chest, clogging her throat.

"Lana-"

Lana presses their mouths together and whispers, "Happy birthday, Misty. I'd give you the world if I could. God knows you've given me so much more."

Misty runs her fingers over Lana's face and then over the pages once more. She's not sure whether to read the story first, or eat her breakfast or see how many kisses Lana will let her get away with. She realises she doesn't have to choose, when Lana grabs her own plate, settles beside her on the bed and spreads out the pages in front of them.

 _7._  
They hurry back to Lana's house from Barb's late night bonfire, hand in hand as the leaves crunch beneath them. Lana pulls Misty's hat further down her ears and holds her gloved hand. Once they're inside, Lana makes quick work of their winter wear, removing her coat and asking Misty to flick the fire on while she grabs two mugs from her cabinet and makes them tea.

They warm up on the living room rug, cocooned by blankets as they gossip about Barb's new lover - Barb had, much to Misty's delight and Lana's mortification, gone into great drunken detail about how good Susan looked naked, and how they'd fallen into bed together mere hours after meeting. Misty had, of course, insisted on every detail, giggling along with Lois as Barb regailed them all with story after story until they'd cleared several bottles of wine and the fire had died. 

Misty had thoroughly enjoyed herself but on the walk back, she'd been quiet and pensive, realising that even in an apocalypse, she wouldn't dream of divulging the secret moments her and Lana shared.

She looks at Lana over the fog of her tea, following the flickering shadows as the flames light her lovely face. 

Lana's eyes brood over her. As if shaken from a dream, she stands up and silently takes Misty's hand, setting their mugs on the coffee table before leading her to the couch. Lana removes her jacket and slowly unbuttons her blouse, never leaving Misty's gaze as she untucks it from the waist of her skirt and toes her Mary Janes. 

Misty wants to ask, mouth forming a soft 'o' but Lana's pulling her in until Misty's in front of her, on the floor on her knees, like she's always wanted to be, and Lana's nodding at her and helping her coax off the blouse and then her tights and the rest of it.

She leaves kisses where it still hurts the most - Lana's pale, taught stomach, her jutting hips, the ridges of her ribs; and then where Lana can feel her heartbeat most - the gentle slope of her neck, her wrist, the inside of her thighs.

Lana's body blooms for her easily, nourished by Misty's patient hands and careful mouth. Misty feels the shift under Lana's skin, the loitering memories easing with each kiss, and Misty vows to give her oceans-full until the day she feels completely cleansed.


End file.
